


Somnambulist

by boonies



Category: DBSK|Tohoshinki|TVXQ
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 15:47:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boonies/pseuds/boonies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Celebrating a decade of Changmin doing horrible things in his ~sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somnambulist

*

 

So this is Changmin's earliest memory:

 

Standing in front of his parents' bed in the middle of the night, proffering his sippy cup and trying to say, _I thought this would be chocolate milk and it's water, you have displeased me_ but his actual vocabulary is just ten words so he mostly just lurks there, motionless.

 

"...is he sleeping," his mom says with concern.

 

"No one in my family is this creepy," his dad says groggily, "he probably got this from you."

 

In the morning, when Changmin tries to cuddle up to his dad on the couch, everyone glares.

 

*

 

When Changmin is four, he wakes up by his sister's crib, clutching a broken toy train.

 

"The doctor said it's because he gets stressed," his mom says pointedly, wrestles him away from the crib, and chucks him at his dad.

 

"I'm still gonna have your side tested," his dad complains helplessly, tugging a lock of Changmin's messy hair.

 

"Go right ahead," his mom shrugs, "and when they take us all off the family registry—"

 

The next time Changmin visits his grandmother, she doesn't give him any cookies.

 

*

 

The night before his first day of school, Changmin sleepwalks to a grocery store.

 

No one really notices until an old lady follows a trail of empty candy wrappers and finds him huddled behind a whole thing of instant noodles.

 

"We're so sorry," his dad apologizes profusely to an exasperated police officer, "he just—he has school in the morning and when he gets stressed—"

 

"I want a divorce," his mom mutters under her breath, clutching a tiny purse, "I want a time machine. I want to go back and marry Cha Seung-won."

 

And so Changmin spends the whole night convinced he's ruined everything.

 

But then his parents have another baby so what does he know.

 

*

 

This is how Changmin meets Yunho:

 

His mom drags him to a very weird audition because she wants to see some BoA lady and then Changmin's somehow a trainee and he's passing a dance studio four days after military-clapping his way into the biggest talent agency in Korea and—

 

There's a boy.

 

He's scrawny and his hair is kind of really ridiculous but he's moving like he's an ocean ripple or maybe a spring breeze or like his bones are half silk and Changmin almost walks into a wall.

 

*

 

"This is Yunho," one of the handlers says, slapping a rough hand to Changmin's back and propelling him forward. "He'll be your hyung from now on."

 

Changmin wants to be manly and mature and composed but his heart stopped beating two minutes ago.

 

"And this is Changmin," handler hyung says, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. "...he doesn't talk much."

 

Yunho's face is a mix of casual politeness and blinding... stuff... things.

 

"Nice to meet you," Yunho says calmly, bowing at a perfect ninety-degree angle, then straightens with a frustrated little groan and grabs Changmin's face with both hands and squishes his cheeks together, laughing, "Can I keep this one?"

 

*

 

Everything's a rushed blur.

 

Changmin goes from living at home with his sisters to living in a cramped dorm with a bunch of older guys. And he sort of wants to murder all of them.

 

They stick him in a room with the guy he wants to murder the most.

 

"I BROUGHT MY PLAYSTATION FROM HOME," Junsu howls, barging into the room like a wrecking ball. "YOU WANNA PLAY OR WHAT?"

 

The window rattles ominously.

 

Scowling, Changmin burrows under the covers.

 

*

 

He wakes up sprawled across Junsu's legs.

 

Confusion wars with disgust and embarrassment, so he squints one eye and peeks through his bangs.

 

"It's fine," Junsu yawns into his pillow, shifting. "I used to sleep in my hyung's bed all the time."

 

But it's not fine because Changmin's never had a hyung and now he has three and this can't be what typically happens between guys.

 

"It's fine if you're lonely, okay," Junsu mumbles, half-asleep, and kicks him a little.

 

Mortified, Changmin sits up, muscles knotted, and warns, "You better not tell anyone."

 

"I won't."

 

*

 

"CHANGMIN SLEEPWALKS."

 

Yunho looks up from his breakfast. "What?"

 

Changmin is kicking Junsu's leg under the table so hard he's sure he'll leave bruises but Junsu keeps making word-like noises that sound suspiciously like, "He wants to sleep with me~"

 

Jaejoong laughs so hard he chokes on a piece of scrambled egg.

 

Yunho's not laughing at all.

 

"Changmin-ah," he says carefully, meeting his eyes. "That's not something men—"

 

"I—no. _Stressed_ ," Changmin grits out, face burning. "When I get stressed, I." He presses his forehead to the table, ready to quit. "I do things in my sleep."

 

"Things?" Jaejoong cracks up, shoving at Junsu's shoulder. "Wait, where's my phone—where the hell is my phone, I'm sleeping in your room tonight, DAMN IT, MY PHONE—"

 

" _Normal_ things," Changmin hastens to add. "Eating. Talking. Stuff."

 

"Oh," Yunho exhales, relieved. "We're all men here, sure, but even so, _that_ would've been a little..." he trails off, giving Changmin a perturbed look.

 

"...it's not like that, hyung," Changmin mumbles, uneasy.

 

He stays awake for two nights.

 

*

 

"Yah, look at our maknae," Leeteuk croons across the dark hallway, dragging some poor flustered kid around. "Isn't he cute?"

 

Hyper, Yunho grabs Changmin into a headlock, showing him off. "This one's mine."

 

_Mine_ reverberates down the hallway like an endless echo.

 

*

 

"Shortest underwear gets to pick," Jaejoong announces, flipping through a binder full of debut concepts. "I don't wanna wear braids."

 

"What?" Yunho groans. "Can't we just play roshambo like normal people..."

 

"No," Jaejoong pouts. "I'm wearing briefs. What are you wearing?"

 

"Briefs," Yunho shrugs.

 

Defeated, Junsu glances down at his sweats. "Nothing."

 

Jaejoong nods approvingly.

 

"You're safe," he says in bad English and turns his evil face to Changmin. "Changminnie?"

 

"...boxers..."

 

Jaejoong perks up. "Maknae has to do it."

 

And then Changmin's hair is braided and it's humiliating and stupid and he doesn't want to be an idol anymore but then Yunho pats his head and pulls on a braid like it's his new favorite toy, so Changmin ducks his head down and basks in secret.

 

*

 

Management adds a fifth member.

 

Within an hour, he fits in better than Changmin has ever fit in anywhere, and Changmin tries not to worry about stupid shit like being pushed out or ignored or forgotten.

 

He talks himself down before going to sleep but in the morning, he wakes up on the floor.

 

By Jaejoong's bed.

 

"You tried to sleep with me," Jaejoong explains lazily, waving a carefree hand in Changmin's general direction.

 

There's a dull kind of pain spreading down his hip so Changmin rubs at his bruises and hesitates.

 

"Please don't tell Yu—"

 

Jaejoong gives him a _yeah, no, I sent him a text an hour ago_ look.

 

Changmin winces.

 

But when he stumbles upon Yunho in the hallway, Yunho laughs, wrapping Changmin in a glowing kind of warmth.

 

"Jaejoongie's asking for a lock on his door," he grins, affectionately cupping one side of Changmin's face.

 

Changmin turns pink.

 

For all the wrong reasons.

 

*

 

One day, Changmin shows up for practice, late as usual.

 

Yunho's in the middle of a modified box step, alone in the studio.

 

...nothing about him is scrawny anymore.

 

His back muscles bunch up when he turns, neck tensing, waist stretching, fingers reaching for purchase. He looks determined and focused and perfectly in his element. Changmin's insecurities flare up instantly, obliterating petty jealousies and childlike hero-worship alike, displacing him from the universe for a moment.

 

But then Yunho twists and glances at the door and his gaze lands on Changmin and obvious fondness pulls his face into a stupid dazzling smile.

 

Shaking, Changmin drops his bag, mouth dry.

 

*

 

 

Six months later, the night before their Christmas debut, Changmin falls asleep in his own bed.

 

He wakes up in Yoochun's to muffled laughter.

 

"Take responsibility," Yoochun says dramatically, sheets pulled up to his chin.

 

Across the room, Jaejoong buries his face into a blanket, shoulders and back shaking.

 

 

*

 

"We're all men here."

 

Yunho gives him a guarded look.

 

Changmin licks his lips. "Just show us."

 

"Noo, I don't really wanna see hyung's—" Junsu whines, turning his head in despair.

 

"Moobs?" Jaejoong finishes with a wicked grin, tossing himself on a gigantic beanbag chair.

 

Yawning, Yoochun rubs at one eye and makes a lazy gesture at Yunho's chest, half-covered by a hideously-cut vest. "Take it off, hyung, let's see."

 

Yunho pauses.

 

"Alright," he sighs and tugs the vest aside, "how bad is it?"

 

There's a moment of silence.

 

Surreptitiously, Junsu peeks through his fingers.

 

"Well..." Yoochun starts. "I guess... you'll... want a bra for Christmas..."

 

Jaejoong cracks up hysterically and makes grabby hands at the air. "From now on, you're the mom."

 

"From now on," Junsu cries, "you can be on a diet with me."

 

Changmin doesn't say anything.

 

He can't even move.

 

He wills his body to obey, to calm down, to be normal.

 

But he goes to bed hoping he wakes up in Yunho's.

 

*

 

He doesn't.

 

*

 

"Yah, Changminnie," Yunho whines, face scrunched up, "those are mine."

 

Caught, Changmin glances up.

 

He wants to just casually lean against his locker and drawl _yeah, whatever, I borrowed your underwear_ , _my bad,_ but his face is hot and his voice is cracking embarrassingly and all that comes out is, "Sorry, I thought they were mine, they look the same, I didn't realize—"

 

Yunho ponders for a moment, then smiles happily.

 

"Nice to know both of us have good taste."

 

...guiltily, Changmin takes it as tacit permission.

 

 

*

 

Yunho steals takoyaki off Changmin's paper plate.

 

There's an instant spark of fury rising up Changmin's throat but then he sees the way Yunho's mouth is working around one of the balls, tongue curving under it to lick at the sauce, and he can't say anything.

 

He can't say anything for a week because he spends most of it in the shower, stroking himself raw.

 

*

 

"Did you see who gave it to him?"

 

Changmin's vaguely aware someone's speaking.

 

"DID _ANYONE_ SEE WHO GAVE IT TO HIM?"

 

There's a dull kind of weight anchoring Changmin to the ground, keeping him upright and filtering words like _poisoned_ and _critical_ and _damage control_.

 

Breathing becomes a challenge and Changmin feels wild and panicked and he swears to god or the universe or whoever's listening that he'll stop. He'll stop and be good and not want things that are wrong, things that he can never have, things he doesn't deserve.

 

If Yunho's okay, Changmin will stop, so please make Yunho okay.

 

*

 

A year goes by.

 

It's hard work but Changmin secretly loves it. He loves late nights and junk food and lessons. He loves Jaejoong's dumb stories and Yoochun's stupid trolling and Junsu's dolphin noises.

 

And fuck.

 

He loves Yunho.

 

He loves Yunho... wrong.

 

He's gonna go to his grave denying everything, of course, but he finds himself, once again, glancing at Yunho's damp hair during practice. Finds his fingers clamping down on Yunho's shoulder during photoshoots. Finds himself watching him during interviews. Finds himself fucking _giggling_.

 

Finds himself avoiding group showers.

 

And then one day, he walks in on Yunho in the bathroom.

 

Yunho's oblivious by default, but today, he's just completely out of it, running on probably one hour of sleep.

 

He's staggering out of the shower, tangled in the curtain.

 

His hair is matted to his cheeks, dripping with water and framing his face. His skin is flushed and beaded with too much body wash. One sharp hip bone peeks from the plastic curtain when he slips a long leg out of the tub.

 

A slow burn starts low in Changmin's stomach, spreads up and around him like wildfire, consumes him mercilessly.

 

He backs out of the bathroom, unseen, heart hammering behind his breastbone, harder than he's ever been.

 

*

 

Changmin can't sleep.

 

He's wide awake and his brain is just... sex.

 

He tries not to think about anything but his head is full of fucking and pleasure and want.

 

There's nothing else.

 

Except a vague sort of horrible idea.

 

He could sneak into the bathroom and jack off, which would be fine and normal and acceptable.

 

It would be something he's already done twice today.

 

Or he could... sleepwalk to Yunho's room.

 

He could pretend he's asleep. He's good at faking. And he's stressed. He's tired. And fuck, his body should seek Yunho's because it _craves_ it when Changmin's awake so why not now. Why can't he just—

 

Because it's wrong.

 

Even his body knows that.

 

Changmin's spoiled and a little bit entitled but he's not stupid and he's not that selfish nor disrespectful nor crazy.

 

And he's... not into guys.

 

So he rolls out of bed and shuffles out toward the bathroom, boxers tight and hot and sticky.

 

He means to just slip into the shower but his feet detour towards Yunho's room. His fingers grab for the door handle. His breath catches in his chest.

 

A bedside lamp is on in the far corner of the room when Changmin quietly pushes in.

 

It's producing a low electrical hum and it sounds like a chorus of _no, don't, don't, stop, why_.

 

Changmin can't stop.

 

Abruptly, the covers rustle and then Yunho is lifting his head.

 

"Changminnie," he yawns and drowsily rolls over on his back, hair sticking out everywhere, "what's wrong?"

 

Wordlessly, Changmin closes the distance. His knees bump against the bed and then he lifts the covers and bends one knee into the mattress and slips inside, keeping away from Yunho's body.

 

Yunho's quiet for a long moment.

 

Then he laughs and says under his breath, "I guess I'm next."

 

Conflicted, Changmin closes his eyes and gingerly presses into Yunho's side.

 

And then, inexplicably aggressive, he slips one leg over him, inner thigh rubbing against Yunho's underwear.

 

"Oh," Yunho says breathlessly. "Shit. No, wait, Changminnie, you have to—"

 

Changmin brings his hips closer, erection pressing into Yunho's hipbone.

 

"—wake up," Yunho finishes softly.

 

Changmin feels like the world is on fire. Like it's burning up and fusing his bones to Yunho's flesh.

 

It's enough.

 

He wills his cock to cooperate and fitfully falls asleep, wrapped around Yunho like he's a strong piece of rope and his only purpose in life is to bind Yunho to him.

 

*

 

"Hyung asked if you ever... did stuff to me," Junsu confides over breakfast, eyes narrowed suspiciously. " _With_ me."

 

Changmin forces himself to swallow.

 

"I don't remember anything," he says around a spoonful of rice. "I never remember."

 

Super amused, Junsu snorts, spitting food everywhere. "I told him you mostly just drool and argue with your dead grandpa, but he told me to be careful anyway."

 

Changmin's stomach knots.

 

*

 

Changmin manages another year.

 

A year of waking up where he's supposed to. A year of going out with girls. A year of doing everything right.

 

But then one day, he's running on no sleep and his legs hurt and the practice is too hard and too long and too fucking much and Yunho keeps pushing for _just one more time_ , and Changmin snaps.

 

He tells Yunho to just fucking shove it and to fuck off and there's a whole slew of sharp barbs and uncalled-for comments and Changmin has no idea where all of this shit is even coming from but they're exchanging horrible, awful words, cutting each other down, and there's the old forgotten _if you're gonna be like this, just fucking quit_ and—

 

Changmin doesn't understand what's happening.

 

He just knows Yunho's mad at him.

 

Yunho's never mad at him.

 

So Changmin bails out of the dance studio and returns to the dorms on his own. He eats and showers and broods in his humid room until he hears Junsu tiptoe inside, Jaejoong and Yoochun loudly knocking each other against the hallway walls.

 

Changmin gives it an hour.

 

And then he sits up in bed.

 

Because he's just so... _something_.

 

Mad, maybe. Irritated, frustrated, exhausted, probably. He just needs to de-stress and unwind and fix things.

 

He tells himself he's going to the kitchen to grab some food. Or maybe to the living room to read. Or maybe out to get laid.

 

But he ends up in Yunho's room.

 

It's dark and quiet and there's only the low thrum of the A/C, drowning out the sound of Yunho's breathing.

 

Yunho doesn't move when Changmin crawls in behind him.

 

So Changmin sneaks one arm around Yunho's waist and buries his face in Yunho's bare shoulder blade.

 

Yunho hasn't showered.

 

The scent hits Changmin like a freight train.

 

He's hard in a heartbeat.

 

Unbidden, his fingers move to palm Yunho's crotch. The cotton feels hot and unnecessary so Changmin roughly jerks his wrist and shoves his hand inside Yunho's boxers.

 

"Wake up," Yunho grunts calmly.

 

Instead, Changmin mouths at Yunho's shoulder and laps at his skin, tongue rough and teeth sharp.

 

And beneath his palm, Yunho is suddenly solid, hardening under Changmin's sweaty fingers.

 

"Wake up," Yunho repeats but his voice is shaky.

 

Spitefully, Changmin pushes the heel of his hand down and Yunho lets out a low moan, the kind Changmin's never heard before, the kind that fries his entire nervous system, pulses straight to his cock and kills common sense.

 

On nothing but instinct, Changmin closes his mouth around a wet patch of skin between Yunho's shoulder blades and rolls his hips against Yunho's ass, hard and desperate.

 

His pajama bottoms drag against Yunho's boxers.

 

The friction pulls at a coiling orgasm, and Changmin can barely breathe.

 

"Wake up," Yunho tries again but it's a strained gasp. He curls in on himself, jaw clenched and lips parted, and Changmin spoons him like Yunho will push off and escape and disappear forever if he doesn't.

 

He tightens his grip around Yunho's cock, and Yunho tenses and bends his head back and bares his throat in silent wonder.

 

Changmin strokes harder.

 

It's nothing like touching himself but it's surprisingly easy and he has Yunho coming into his hand with a dirty little noise that makes Changmin want to fuck forever—

 

So he speeds up, hips aching, and rubs against Yunho's ass, bites his lip, shuts his eyes tight.

 

It's dry and kind of painful but the contrast of Yunho's damp skin and Yunho's come cooling between Changmin's fingers and Yunho's hard twitching stomach has him coming in a bright white haze.

 

*

 

In the morning, Yunho's side of the bed is empty.

 

And he can't meet Changmin's eyes during breakfast.

 

Changmin's a weird combination of rested and restless, boxers stiff and stained under his pajamas, so he shoves food down his throat like he'll never have any again.

 

"Did you sleep in Yunho's room?" Junsu asks, only half-interested.

 

The food comes back up.

 

"See, that's why you gotta lock your door~" Yoochun lectures, eyes a bright sparkling evil mess.

 

"...that's not why you two lock your door..." Junsu mumbles, displeased.

 

Changmin's stomach is twisting with anxiety and guilt and fear and he's about to excuse himself from the table, swearing he'll never so much as look at Yunho again, but Yunho sticks out a palm and commands, "Pass me the kimchi."

 

"Call me hyung first," Changmin blurts out.

 

Jaejoong cracks up, sleepily slumping to the table, bangs dipping into his porridge. "Yah, you gonna do it?"

 

Yunho smiles, warm and happy, and just like that, things are back to normal.

 

"Maybe when you're taller, Changminnie."

 

Changmin grows an inch out of spite.

 

 

*

 

Sometimes, Changmin really appreciates standard formation.

 

Like when fans scream for yunjae and Jaejoong's ugly hair hides Changmin's perpetual eye rolling. Or when they're posing for Japanese cover jackets and disappointed nee-chans grumble about Changmin's incessant cockblocking.

 

He loves it most, however, when Yunho has to drape himself across Changmin's chest or shoulders, quietly amused and complaining halfheartedly about Changmin's cologne and Changmin gets to wrap at least one arm around Yunho's waist and breathe him in.

 

"This is so fucking awkward," Yoochun whispers, squished inappropriately between Junsu and Jaejoong.

 

"Hyung," Changmin whispers back, "that's not how you say sexy in Korean."

 

Yunho's face goes from professionally stoic to a warm affectionate mess.

 

As the flash goes off, he brings his lips close to Changmin's ear and murmurs, "This is why you're my favorite."

 

*

 

"What?"

 

Yunho jerks, flushing. "Ah. Nothing."

 

Changmin narrows his eyes, sprawled across the couch, nose buried in some poorly-drawn hentai. "Yah. What?"

 

Yunho huffs at the tone, then shrugs one shoulder, leaning against the doorway. "Just... looking at you still makes me want to get a puppy."

 

Changmin focuses really hard on a random panel, ears red.

 

*

 

"For a girl," Yunho muses, observing Mangdoongie repeatedly pounce-tackling Taepoong into the mud, "she's pretty... aggressive."

 

Changmin puffs out his chest, swelling with pride.

 

Yunho turns his head to stare. "...did you... did you think that was a compliment..."

 

Changmin snorts.

 

"If you know what you want," he says flippantly, "you gotta go for it."

 

Eyes slightly narrowed, Yunho considers for a moment. "And she wants to break my dog?"

 

Changmin glances at the scene.

 

Mangdoongie's in the middle of body-slamming Taepoong, snout nuzzling one of his hind legs.

 

"She likes him," Changmin shrugs.

 

Incredulous, Yunho leans against the bench, stretching one arm across. "That's a really weird way of showing it."

 

His fingers accidentally brush Changmin's back.

 

"Yeah," Changmin murmurs.

 

*

 

One winter, right around the anniversary, Changmin starts dating a very cute girl.

 

It's pretty fun and he learns a lot and spends a healthy amount of time thinking about normal things like presents and thoughtful text messages and bragging rights.

 

But something's just... a little off.

 

He can't quite grasp _what_ because this is right and normal and he should be happy but he comes home after an okay date and finds Yunho asleep at the kitchen table.

 

His cheek's pressed to a newspaper and when Changmin sits down opposite him, Yunho lifts his head, adorably sleepy.

 

"Changminnie," he yawns, "did you have fun?"

 

Changmin can't stop staring at Yunho's face.

 

Half of a Japanese article on Tohoshinki's anniversary is printed across his left cheek, the ink almost perfectly transferred.

 

So Changmin touches a tentative finger to a section smudged over Yunho's scar.

 

"...what are you doing," Yunho asks, maybe too softly, bringing his head back down on the table.

 

"Reading," Changmin says.

 

Yunho closes his eyes, barely awake. "Reading what."

 

The words bypass Changmin's brain and tumble right off his lips.

 

"The future."

 

*

 

Model noonas are fucking hot.

 

And Changmin's rapidly becoming oddly popular with them.

 

So during one promotional circuit or another, Changmin finds himself on the receiving end of some pretty aggressive flirting.

 

"I like your singing, Changmin-ssi," the noona says politely but she's cupping his crotch in the middle of the stairway. "Would you like me to show you how much?"

 

Frankly, Changmin's sort of tempted, but the emergency exit one floor above them opens so loudly the door almost blows off its heavy hinges.

 

"Changmin-ah," Yunho greets sweetly, bending over the railing, bangs bouncing. "Don't dawdle, okay~"

 

Changmin swallows and excuses himself, the back of his neck prickling and satisfaction pooling low in his stomach.

 

Later, when Yoochun asks about that cute ~horny noona then slumps into a chair, disappointed to hear her employment's been mysteriously terminated, Changmin's heart skips an entire cycle of beats.

 

It's probably a total coincidence.

 

*

 

"Junsu told my sister about the... thing," Changmin sighs dramatically, texting her back. "They're gonna fucking take me off the family registry."

 

"That's okay," Yunho waves him off. "I'll add you to mine."

 

*

 

The first time Jaejoong brings it up, Changmin's positive he's being trolled.

 

But then Yoochun starts talking about it, too, and then Junsu is shaking his head a lot and then everyone's fighting or cajoling or rationalizing and Changmin can't pause the sequence of events so he just goes through the motions, does his best during the tour, and when Yunho leans his chin on Changmin's shoulder during an interview and tells everyone, "I like everything about Changmin," Changmin _knows_.

 

"Please... just... think about it carefully," Jaejoong warns, nose scrunched up in worry.

 

But Changmin's done thinking.

 

He'd stay with Yunho through an apocalypse.

 

Of course, what comes out is a casual, "I can't go. I like the menu here."

 

*

 

The first night their apartment becomes... their apartment, Yunho shatters.

 

They're sitting next to each other on the floor, backs against a bare wall, yellowed rectangular borders where pictures used to hang, and they're drinking _water_ , and Yunho says, "I'm sorry."

 

There's nothing Yunho should be sorry about.

 

Changmin, though. Changmin should be sorry. He should be sorry for being an asshole and being bad at dancing and probably not being enough for Yunho without the other three and for being fucking _happy_ —

 

He should be sorry because he loves Yunho in such an ugly, disgusting way.

 

"Yeah," Changmin says, voice rough, knee knocking against Yunho's, "you should be sorry. Who's gonna cook now."

 

Yunho smiles but it's a broken little curl of the lips and Changmin's chest collapses under the weight of an uncertain future.

 

"I'll cook."

 

"No offense," Changmin replies, "but I don't wanna die. I'll cook."

 

Pensive, Yunho leans his head against the wall, splaying his fingers across his lap and staring at the ceiling as though praying. "I don't wanna die, either."

 

He meets Changmin's eyes.

 

Changmin's chest tightens.

 

"We can both cook," he tells Yunho.

 

He tries to sound casual and unconcerned and okay.

 

Yunho looks at him like he doesn't see anything else.

 

"Yeah," he agrees. "We can both die."

 

*

 

Yunho's trying to date some girl.

 

"Really," Changmin mutters, examining a too shiny suit. "Our comeback's in six months and you think this is a good time to—"

 

Yunho slips into a sponsored jacket, checking himself out in the mirror. He plops down into one of the makeup chairs and pouts up at Changmin.

 

"I'm gonna steal this t-shirt."

 

Changmin bites back a grin.

 

"I stole two yesterday," he admits and slouches into the chair next to Yunho.

 

A stylist noona's on her cell in the other corner, giving them the sheepish _just one sec, sorry_ gesture, so Changmin jabs the tip of his shoe into Yunho's knee.

 

"So you're going out tonight?"

 

After a suspiciously long beat, Yunho nods.

 

"Okay, but we fucking have practice until ten—" Changmin starts petulantly. He swivels in his chair a couple of times, glaring at Yunho whenever their eyes meet in the mirror. "Plus, there's the photoshoot and with travel, you'll get, like, an hour of sleep—"

 

"I'm gonna..." Yunho starts warily, "...probably stay out."

 

Changmin stops spinning.

 

Nope.

 

"Weren't you the one who said we needed to focus," Changmin grumbles, arms crossed.

 

Oddly agitated, Yunho jumps to his feet. "I'm just... I don't know." He averts his eyes. "Stressed out."

 

Changmin scoots his chair closer and kicks at Yunho's ass, leaving a dusty footprint.

 

Bristling, Yunho turns to argue.

 

He closes his mouth when he meets Changmin's eyes.

 

"Hyung," Changmin says darkly. "Stay home."

 

*

 

Yunho's door is open.

 

It's just slightly ajar, cracked a tiny little bit, but Changmin notices.

 

With trembling fingers, he nudges the door wide open and steps in.

 

Yunho's sprawled on his back.

 

His face is turned to the side, away from Changmin, so Changmin feels brave enough, stupid enough, desperate enough, to take a step closer.

 

And then another one.

 

And another.

 

With each step he takes, his body heats up, tenses, quakes, and when he peels the covers off, shaking uncontrollably, his heart stops.

 

Yunho's wearing the t-shirt he stole.

 

Just the t-shirt.

 

Fuck.

 

Hastily, Changmin presses his palms into the mattress and climbs in. He kneels like that for a while, just watching the slow rise and fall of Yunho's chest, the taut stretch of skin along his collarbone, the strong column of his neck, the delicate angle of his jaw, peppered with birth marks.

 

He spends a moment thinking about how easily Yunho scars.

 

Changmin barely bruises.

 

So he takes in the nicks and the scratches and the cuts, and feels, at once, furious and tempted, and then he lowers his mouth to Yunho's temple.

 

Suddenly nervous, he runs a hand down Yunho's chest with a combination of animosity and affection.

 

Yunho stops breathing.

 

His eyes are still closed but Changmin knows he's awake.

 

So he skims his hand lower.

 

Yunho's cock twitches before Changmin can even touch him.

 

Stupidly frustrated, he brings his mouth close to Yunho's because...

 

...every time he's done this, the handful of times he was a calculating piece of shit and a selfish, exploitative bastard, he's never gotten to see Yunho's face.

 

So he thinks _fuck it_ , and moves away from Yunho's lips and maneuvers himself around to lick up the underside of Yunho's cock, flattening it to Yunho's stomach.

 

Yunho gasps, hands tangling in the sheets.

 

Changmin doesn't really know what the fuck he's doing and this is weird and fucked up and wrong, but Yunho's cock hardens, lengthens, thickens, so Changmin wraps his mouth around the head.

 

Yunho arches off the bed, fingers tangling in Changmin's hair.

 

Dazed, Changmin relaxes his throat and bobs his head, taking Yunho in deeper.

 

The fingers in his hair clench, pulling at messy locks a little too hard.

 

Changmin's cock throbs.

 

He should be grossed out and ashamed but all he sees is Yunho's face, beautifully pained, caught and ruled by pleasure, so he adds both hands and flattens his tongue and sinks down.

 

When Yunho comes, it's quietly and a lot, and Changmin licks him clean before willing his erection to subside.

 

 

*

 

"One time, around 3 AM," Changmin's mother says, piling a whole thatch of shrimp on Yunho's plate, "we found him arguing with an old man who used to steal our newspapers—"

 

"I had my side of the family tested, by the way," Changmin's dad offers with a harried scowl, then groans when a foot loudly connects with his shin under the table.

 

Yunho grins like he's made of an entire imploding galaxy.

 

"That must have been really cute," he beams at Changmin's mom, adorably amused, swatting at a persistent bee.

 

"It wasn't cute," Changmin's dad mutters into his chopsticks, "when the guy died and the cops wanted to talk to us..."

 

Changmin's going to die.

 

He's going to just asphyxiate or maybe exsanguinate himself—

 

Yunho glances at his face, then laughs like an idiot.

 

Slowly, Changmin's chest fills with warmth.

 

"I want out," he gripes, chugging his water, "I'm quitting. I'll go join Super Junior."

 

Yunho's face brightens stupidly. "Feel free. We all know you'll just sleepwalk your way back."

 

Changmin laughs, eyes mismatched.

 

Still feels like a sort of death.

 

*

 

Yunho's tailbone is slick with sweat and Changmin's fingers slip.

 

It's winter but Yunho's room is a furnace and even naked, Changmin is burning up.

 

He honestly meant to just cuddle under the usual false pretenses because the comeback is looming and huge and terrifying, but somehow, his body can't resist Yunho's.

 

Because Yunho's naked and beautiful and perfect and he's grudgingly rolling back into Changmin.

 

So Changmin spoons closer, clumsily pushing at one of Yunho's legs so he can nestle. His cock tucks itself under Yunho's ass, the head brushing against Yunho's balls. They're both so sweaty, too slick and too wet, and Changmin just can't... stop slowly thrusting.

 

He means to just do it a couple of times, find a comfortable position to sleep in—well. A position that won't make him _die_.

 

But then Yunho pushes his ass into Changmin's crotch with a pained little noise and Changmin's cock slides under Yunho's cheeks and pumps against Yunho's balls.

 

It's a soft, weird feeling, but then Yunho's balls draw up and tighten with every shallow thrust and he turns half on his stomach, palming the sheets and moaning into the pillow and Changmin loses his fucking mind.

 

He grabs Yunho's hips and ruts, cock pushing against Yunho's. His hand sneaks under their bodies and his fingers stretch to wrap around both their shafts and then their rhythms sync and it's too much all of a sudden because Changmin's leaving bruises and when he comes into the sheets beneath Yunho, it's with such force he almost blacks out.

 

*

 

"—like real brothers," the photographer sings, angling his camera.

 

Changmin adjusts his pose, Yunho's breath warming the back of his neck.

 

"Maybe a little..." the photographer falters, re-examining their positions, "...less homosexual. Let's tone it down a bit."

 

The PD standing behind him nods thoughtfully, tapping a script to his side. "Bromance is selling really well right now..."

 

"Yeah, but," one of the makeup noonas says, a little judgmentally, "two men together like that for real..."

 

"It's not right," another one chimes in, lips set in a thin, disapproving line.

 

Yunho presses into Changmin's back.

 

Changmin turns his face slightly to stare.

 

"Agreed," Yunho says cheerfully. The lighting's creating strange shadows on his face and Changmin has to fight not to lean in. "You're right. Changminnie and me are both... this won't do between men."

 

*

 

Yunho stops shutting his door at night.

 

*

 

Changmin hates this fucking show but he cranks up the aegyo anyway.

 

His level of self-loathing rises exponentially

 

"Is Changmin-ssi going to carry Yunho-ssi today?"

 

"Nope," Changmin nods at the MC, pasting a psychotically bright smile, "hyung has to carry me."

 

Yunho's face is blank.

 

He's still sick and running a fever and Changmin knows all of this, but.

 

"Perhaps today," the MC urges, "Changmin-ssi can—"

 

"No, no, no," Changmin argues playfully, stepping into Yunho's space and inhaling indulgently, "I have to be the one getting carried."

 

Yunho doesn't complain; hoists him up bridal-style, just picks him up like it's nothing, so Changmin cuddles up, in a totally manly way, and pretends he doesn't feel guilty.

 

*

 

Around midnight, he licks a path down Yunho's back in lieu of an apology.

 

*

 

In Tokyo, they're telling the same story for the twentieth time to the same mildly-interested MC.

 

Changmin's pretty bored and kind of hungry so when Yunho finishes with the usual spiel about Changmin talking shit in his sleep and fighting invisible enemies, Changmin opens his mouth to add the standard punchline.

 

But what comes out is, "Ah, I probably wasn't sleeping."

 

Yunho laughs uncontrollably.

 

The camera pans away and Yunho stops. Brings his gaze to Changmin's face, eyes dark, pupils blown.

 

Changmin's stomach drops.

 

*

 

They go home without speaking a single word.

 

Yunho's manager drops them off at the apartment with an awkward shuffle and shoves a copy of tomorrow's schedule at Yunho, then exits hastily.

 

The door clicks shut behind him.

 

And then Changmin's being slammed into it.

 

"Not asleep?" Yunho growls, tightly controlled expression snapping and melting into what looks like loathing or rage or, fuck, hatred.

 

Changmin's knees buckle.

 

"Which time," Yunho demands angrily, curling his fingers in Changmin's jacket, "were you awake."

 

Stupidly, Changmin grins.

 

He shouldn't be grinning. He should be apologizing because he can barely stay up under the crushing onslaught of guilt and because Yunho hates him and because everything's ruined now.

 

Because Changmin's a ruiner.

 

Because Changmin's always been a ruiner.

 

But he's grinning when he says, "With you, every time."

 

Yunho freezes.

 

Changmin's smile fades.

 

"Fuck," Yunho says, expressionless. "This has to stop."

 

Changmin falters. Panic bubbles up in his chest and his stomach roils so he starts with a rushed little, "Hyung, I'm—"

 

"From now on," Yunho growls, "we do this the right way."

 

And then he kisses Changmin like he has four seconds to live.

 

He pulls away then tears off his jacket and frantically tugs at Changmin's. He slams his lips over Changmin's, panting, and Changmin's jaw goes slack, mind blank, bones liquid.

 

"Who's gonna—" he starts stupidly because all he can focus on is being inside Yunho, because if this is real, if this is really happening, if Changmin hasn't lost his fucking mind, he wants—needs—has to be everywhere inside Yunho, heart, mouth, _everywhere._

 

Startled, Yunho pauses, eyes clouded with lust. He thinks for a moment, then offers a frustrated little rumble and presses Changmin back into the door.

 

"I don't care," he sighs into Changmin's neck, "if it's you, as long as it's you, Min-ah—"

 

"No, shut up," Changmin grunts because his eyes are starting to burn. "Look," he offers haltingly, "if you call me hyung, you can—"

 

Yunho laughs, eyes soft and lips wet, or maybe it's the other way around, and buries his fingers in Changmin's hair.

 

"Shortest underwear gets to pick," he compromises.

 

"...I'm not wearing any," Changmin lies, cock curving against his jeans.

 

Yunho pauses.

 

" _Fuck_ ," he says and pushes off and disappears down the hallway.

 

Changmin should yell at him to take his shoes off but instead, he sheds his clothes fucking everywhere and when he hunts Yunho down deep in his bedroom, he's naked and Yunho's down to his briefs and Changmin has never felt better about life.

 

"Stuff," he says, flushed with need and short on vocabulary.

 

Yunho pauses for a beat, then mutters to himself, "I feel like it's trying to communicate..."

 

Changmin tackles him to the bed.

 

It's a rough landing.

 

"You're an idiot," Yunho winces, properly trapped beneath Changmin.

 

Changmin is the biggest fucking idiot, yeah.

 

"You don't even..." Yunho grits out, frustrated, but he spreads his legs around Changmin. "Fuck."

 

Changmin is so hard and so overwhelmed and he just wants to sink into Yunho, but—stuff. And things. And Yunho.

 

Yunho grabs Changmin's face and brings it close to his. "You don't know. I felt guilty for years."

 

No, that...

 

That's always been Changmin's job.

 

Changmin lifts his head.

 

His cock violently protests the distraction, but this is important.

 

This is a lifetime on the line.

 

"Why?"

 

Yunho flinches.

 

"I thought," he says, averting his eyes, "I was taking advantage of you, screwing you up, but I couldn't stop. I thought—"

 

Changmin kisses him.

 

There's no way he can fix his past fuck-ups, but he can fix this.

 

"Stuff," he repeats, scooting down Yunho's body.

 

This time, Yunho understands and modestly points at the nightstand, cheeks dark.

 

For how little time they generally spend in this apartment, it's suddenly surprisingly well-stocked with lube and Changmin grins, validated.

 

Impatient, he grabs a nondescript tube and makes a mess.

 

"...I changed my mind," Yunho says and kicks him off the bed.

 

Changmin lands with a wince, something sharp digging into his back, and then Yunho's straddling him, blonde highlights shining under the setting sun peeking through the blinds.

 

Changmin freezes.

 

With shaking fingers, he brings his hands up and presses flat palms to Yunho's chest. Clumsily, he cups the soft swell of flesh, cock jumping, squashed against his stomach by Yunho's ass.

 

Yunho makes an exasperated face.

 

"In retrospect," he tells the ceiling, "I guess there were clues."

 

Startled, Changmin laughs and flicks one nipple.

 

And then Yunho's face softens with so much lust Changmin forgets all the things and sits up, cradling Yunho closer. He latches onto Yunho's neck, not giving a shit about the tour or televised promotions or sasaengs with telescopic lenses because this is his, and he can claim it and mark it and no one else can.

 

Yunho rocks in his lap, briefs catching on the underside of Changmin's cock so Changmin lays him down, not gently, and drags the briefs down to his knees, trapping him in place, tight and secure and looking all kinds of vulnerable.

 

The visual's too much, and fuck.

 

Fuck.

 

"I'll make it up to you later," he promises and pushes Yunho onto his side, one cheek flattening against the carpet.

 

Yunho struggles, disoriented, but his ass juts out, colliding with Changmin's cock.

 

And then Changmin's slathering lube everywhere, slicking his fingers up and shoving one into Yunho.

 

"Shit," Yunho groans breathlessly, clamping down. "Is it too late to call you hyung—"

 

Changmin adds another finger.

 

It's too much too soon and he can tell but he also can't stop. Yunho's body is pushing him out and pulling him in at the same time so he curls his fingers and Yunho arches away with a sharp gasp.

 

Trembling, Changmin spreads his fingers apart, deliriously happy to be the first.

 

And hoping he's the last.

 

"I want you to beg me," he hears himself say because he's kind of a sick fuck but Yunho won't care.

 

Yunho likes everything about him.

 

"Yeah," Yunho says, squirming, "I'm not doing that."

 

So Changmin pulls his fingers out and bends to Yunho's crotch and shrugs, "Then... itadakimasu."

 

Looking mortified, Yunho pushes at his head, laughing.

 

He stops when Changmin's lips wrap around his cock.

 

With one hand, Changmin slides the briefs completely off, freeing Yunho's legs.

 

They spread with ease, all thick thighs and joints half made of silk, and Changmin cups Yunho's balls, sucks his cheeks in, hollows them out, and savors a victory because in no time at all, Yunho's chanting, "Please, please, please."

 

"Please what," Changmin hums against the shaft.

 

"Please let me touch you."

 

Changmin burns up.

 

He can't do much except shut down and let Yunho push him off.

 

And then he's on his back, blinking owlishly up at Yunho's flushed face.

 

"I never got to—" Yunho starts apologetically, hands gently cupping Changmin's jaw, tongue swiping across his bottom lip, "I could never..." He trails off and presses his mouth to Changmin's.

 

Changmin's going to die.

 

Yunho's going to kill him.

 

With kindness and a million stupid fucking emotions.

 

"I finally get to see you," Yunho says, all stupid and awed and annoying, and kisses Changmin's chin and neck and collarbone and the spot above his heart and Changmin can't do this.

 

He can't love Yunho like a normal person.

 

So he digs his fingers into Yunho's hips and drags him over, guides him to his cock but he hasn't prepped Yunho enough and everything's slick but too tight and it can only hurt if—

 

"I'm gonna pay you back for this," Yunho warns dangerously, hesitates for moment, then spreads himself and slowly sinks down, eyes shutting with a grimace.

 

Changmin stills.

 

He's hovering near an orgasm so raw his entire body is one big ache.

 

"Yunho," he rasps, trying to catch a glimpse of his face.

 

Yunho moves his hips.

 

He moves like there's music inside him, a beat familiar only to Changmin, a melody only he can hear, and Changmin comes humiliatingly fast, carpet burns cutting across his back and his nails clawing at Yunho's skin.

 

"If you're not gonna take this seriously," Yunho smiles down at him, so stupidly beautiful and patient, "go ahead and quit."

 

A familiar wave of want curls through Changmin.

 

Grinning, he bucks his hips, meeting the challenge.

 

He's not a fucking quitter.

 

*

 

This is Changmin's favorite memory:

 

Waking up in Yunho's bed and glancing at the clock, calculating how many hours are left before bedtime, thinking about all the texts he's gonna—once again—get from an entire team of cranky, overworked dancers complaining about Jung becoming such a damn hard-ass lately because _let's run through it one more time, everyone, no pain no gain, right_.

 

"...this is your fault," Yunho chirps a little too pleasantly, sprawled across Changmin's back and checking his phone. He digs his chin into Changmin's spine. "My back hurts and that's your fault but I'm taking it out on _them_ —"

 

Changmin grins into the pillow.

 

"Well," he mumbles, sated. "That's what you get for not taking it out on me."

 

Yunho goes quiet.

 

"Yeah," he says finally, voice low. His fingers ghost down Changmin's side, "I really should take it out on you."

 

Changmin doesn't argue.


End file.
